clementine

what point is there to dwell

when we love before knowing how

peeling at slightest touch

taking taste as their fond vows

still, your wee fibrous locks they'll spit

although you seem to hide

in believing a mandarine to be

the orange of their lives


some trails are merely perpendicular

yet even so will root a lot

see, breathe, each new and fossilled stem

“the world forgetting, by the world forgot”

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© 2018 by Millie Le